And girls and women, perhaps, are different. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. By various twistings and turnings, during all which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept him in view, he reached Gray's-Inn-lane.
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